


Hunt

by mypoisonedvine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Degradation, F/M, Kidnapping, some violence, starts consensual turns into noncon, vampire/slayer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28652667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypoisonedvine/pseuds/mypoisonedvine
Summary: He's a Slayer, you're a vampire... you're sworn enemies.  And yet, there is an attraction there that can no longer be denied.  Bucky's on the hunt for you tonight, and not in the same way he'd been before.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	Hunt

Bucky clenched his jaw in frustration as his head fell back against the headrest. His grip on the steering wheel tightened with a squeaking noise as his skin skidded along the leather.

He was irritated because he knew what was waiting for him at the end of this road. The headlights only illuminated a little of what was ahead, but the predictive power of past experience told him everything he needed to know.

You were going to be waiting for him, and he never looked forward to that.

Memories resurfaced of the last time he had seen you. He’d found you in the forest and though he couldn’t prove it, he was pretty sure he’d interrupted you feeding on a deer. It was disgusting. Yet, you moved with this grace he couldn’t ignore and spoke with a smile that he couldn’t forget. You greeted him with a familiarity that he wished wasn’t merited. He was a Slayer, you were a vampire; there shouldn’t ever be a second meeting. He should’ve killed you the first time, however many months ago it was. He couldn’t even remember why he didn’t, but you slipped away that night and he swore to track you down.

He did, but he didn’t kill you that time either, because you’d proven useful. You’d sold out a vampire who pissed you off and Bucky got to put another kill under his belt. That was definitely the only reason he’d left you alive. 

Then the forest. You were more feral that time, and he saw more of your monstrous side than he had before. So why was that the time he thought about when he tossed and turned at night, when he was too pent up from years of solitude, when he forced his eyes shut and slipped his hand into his boxers under the sheets–

_Destination is on the right_ , the GPS alerted with a robotic voice. Thank god.

Bucky pulled the car into the driveway of the dilapidated mansion, shifting into park and turning off the engine; the metal blasting from the radio halted unceremoniously. 

He didn’t hear the commotion inside the house until he was quite a ways from the car and halfway to the door. Of course he considered that it was a bad idea to just walk in the front door of a suspected vampire coven as a Slayer, but he wasn’t here on a hunt. At least, not the normal kind.

Before he was even on the porch, the door opened with an outpouring of pink light. He shielded his face with his arm as his eyes adjusted, but put it down when he saw it was your silhouette in the doorway.

“Slayer,” you hissed with a smile that blended pleasure and disgust. He knew the feeling.

“You could call me Bucky,” he offered.

“It doesn’t suit you,” you explained, leaning against the splintered wood of the frame. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted with a shrug, “but how could I resist a chance to jump into the lion’s den?”

“You’re here to take on a coven? By yourself?” you laughed.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he denied. “I’m looking for information.”

You raised a brow as if to say _go ahead_.

“A girl in the city,” he continued. “Mysterious death. Coroner is stumped, thinks it could be anything from an animal attack to a blood disorder to a ritualistic murder. Has your name all over it.”

“‘Girl’?” you repeated, as if you’d never heard the word before. “Girl, no, I don’t remember any girl.”

“White, blonde, 5’2”, 26 years old,” he listed.

“Oh!” you stopped him. “26! You mean a _woman_. Yes, I remember feeding on a woman.”

“So you’re confessing?” 

“To what crime? She was going to die in less than a year, easily,” you shrugged. “She did have a blood disorder. Leukemia. She didn’t know it yet.”

“And do I want to know how you knew it?” he shuddered.

“It’s a unique taste,” you grinned. He felt a little unwell hearing you say that.

“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with human law,” he frowned, “but it’s still murder even if they were going to die soon. It’s murder if they were actively dying.”

“I was human once,” you deflected.

“In 1447,” he growled. You would’ve blushed if you could; you were flattered that he remembered.

“Yeah, murder investigation at that time was… very surface-level,” you admitted. “Is your plan to arrest me, then?”

“I’m a Slayer. Not a cop.”

“What you are is a wet blanket,” you grimaced. “We’re busy in here, you know. Big party.”

“I was hoping so,” he smirked. “That’s what you promised.”

“Then why don’t you come in?” you asked coyly. You hadn’t really expected him to do it.

Everyone inside jumped and scurried away the second he set foot in the door. “It’s cool,” you told them, “he’s with me.”

That didn’t seem to comfort them that much, because what business would you have with a Slayer?

They must have figured it out when you slipped away to a secluded room and dragged him along with you. He didn’t seem to figure it out until you were pushing him back against the wall, running your hands over his body through his clothes. 

“What I would give to feed on you,” you whispered, running your lips over his neck. You took in a deep breath and felt a little light-headed at the overwhelming smell of his blood. He, unfortunately, reeked of Slayer, and you pushed back your instinct of fear to appreciate the man underneath. AB positive– your favorite. “Wanted you ever since I first saw you,” you admitted. “You looked so fucking delicious.”

You pulled back to look up at him and you didn’t need vampiric hearing to know that his heart was racing: just the way his eyes darted across your face and down to your lips was proof enough.

“Why did you come here today, Bucky?” you asked quietly. 

“I’m on a hunt,” he answered in a low growl.

“For me?”

“For you.”

“You have me alone,” you noticed. “You could get out your wooden stake and end this for good.”

He nodded, but didn’t move. Instead you felt his hands trail along your sides; he jumped when he brushed the skin of your arm. “You’re so cold,” he realized.

Meanwhile you thought you could burn up from the heat of him, radiating out of his body and through the thick layers of clothing. He was so alive, so awake, so present. 

You pushed off his leather jacket and he didn’t even think to stop you, letting it fall to the floor. You never cared for it. He looked as good as sin in it, yes, but it smelled of death and dead things, the skin of something you wouldn’t have eaten when it was alive 40 years ago, and you wanted only to experience the life of this particular being.

And what is life but wanting? Fuck, you wanted him so goddamn bad.

He wrapped a hand around your neck and pulled you into him, kissing you with instant need and dizzying aggression.

Even now you weren’t sure if he would let you live to see the end of the night. But you couldn’t see the sunrise anyway, so what difference would it make?

He made embarrassingly quick work of your dress, tearing it straight down the front. Downside of wearing something you’d had for nearly 100 years is that it’s flimsy.

His hands were back on you the second your skin was exposed. His touch was so hot that it almost hurt; his hands were so rough and strong that your heart almost clenched.

You clawed at his shirt and gasped with delight when you accidentally nicked him with a sharp fingernail and broke the skin. The flavor hit the air hard and fast; you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward so you could lean down and lick the thin red stripe you’d left on his chest. Just a taste, but the best taste you’d had in… you couldn’t remember anything tasting this good.

“I won’t kill you if you don’t kill me,” he offered breathlessly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you agreed quickly as you began to work open his belt because the last thing on your mind right now was survival.

You groaned when you felt his cock in your hand. There was a lot of blood in that thing and you could feel it pulsing in your palm. You knew better than to put it in your mouth; you didn’t have the restraint for that. 

You were thankful you hadn’t drank any more of his blood because clearly he had a better use for it. It was so big you wondered how he hadn’t passed out from it getting so hard because seriously, this man’s cock was a monster; takes one to know one, eh?

“Fuck me,” you demanded, “I want you to fuck me, oh my god.”

He nodded as a low groan echoed out of his chest. His grip moved to your hips as he pulled you up and put you on the table, pushing you down and bending over you with another bruising kiss that trailed down your body.

“Don’t fucking tease me,” you whined, “I need your cock.”

“Wait,” he instructed, kneeling before you and licking through your exposed folds. You gasped, unprepared for how strange it would feel; your hand grabbed his hair and pulled harder than you meant to, but thankfully, he didn’t slow down.

Little moans and grunts were lost against your skin as he tasted you eagerly. You were so overwhelmed with the sensation that he had to hold your hips down to keep you from squirming away. You’d been feasting on humans for 600 years, and now it seemed like he was attempting to even the score. Even you never ate with this enthusiasm. But you’d never thought about a meal so much before consuming it as he had thought about you before this moment. 

You were already embarrassingly close to orgasm, and it was apparent from the way you moaned and writhed and begged.

“I’m so fucking close, just like that, please don’t stop, yes, yes, oh fuck, _yes_ ,” you yelped.

It all came to a screeching halt as he stood up and grabbed your face with his hand. You looked at him with wide eyes, confused but still appreciating how good he looked with wet lips and dark eyes and his hair all fucked up.

“You aren’t gonna come,” he explained between raspy breaths, “until I’m inside you.”

You nodded in agreement, again arching your back as if you could will him to fuck you.

He slid his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal which was embarrassingly plentiful.

Finally, he pressed his cock into you all at once and you gasped, head falling back against the wooden table. He groaned as he gripped your hips, steadying you so he could piston into you with brutal force. 

And to think you thought he was going to stab you through the chest with a wooden stake. To be fair, he still could. 

He scooped you into his arms, pulling you up until your face was right against his. “You’re warm here,” he informed you with bared teeth, “did you know that? So hot and tight around my fuckin’ cock.”

You could only moan, your eyes darting to his parted lips, and then his neck. You were thoroughly tempted, but didn’t want to do anything that might stop him from fucking you so perfectly like this. His hand came up to wrap around your throat– the metal one, specifically. You were pretty sure he’d lost the arm to a monster fight of some kind but that didn’t matter now. All you knew was that this one was strong enough to crush you and it was making your head dizzy and your pussy wet.

Your moans were lost to his grip as he choked you, and you could hear the ragged sounds of his breathing as he fucked you deeper and harder. “You like getting fucked by a Slayer, huh? You’re such a whore. _My_ whore.”

You gasped when he released your throat and you could breathe again. “Yes,” you agreed with a sob, “yours, baby.” 

He chuckled a little at that, slipping a hand between your bodies to rub your clit with his thumb; you yelped and grabbed his shoulders tightly.

“You’re gonna come already aren’t you?” he mocked. “Dumb fucking slut.”

You hissed at his harsh words but you were too lost in pleasure to complain. Your eyes shot open when you felt two of his fingers slam into your open mouth and hit the back of your throat. “Choke on my fingers while you come, bitch,” he growled. “And I swear if you fucking bite me, you’ll regret it.”

It was like asking you to take a sip of sweet wine but not swallow it. His skin tasted fucking delicious on your tongue, which you swirled around the digits eagerly. He laughed: “such a fucking slut, sucking on my fingers like that. You want it so bad.”

You nodded breathlessly, whimpering as you took his fingertips down your throat. He groaned and slammed into you harder, which only served to bring you that much closer to the edge. 

“Come on my cock, right now,” he demanded, and you liked to believe it was just lucky timing and not his command that struck you at that moment. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you felt yourself flexing and clenching around his length, another gush of arousal easing his way as he relentlessly pounded you.

“Good girl,” he praised, pulling his fingers from your throat to hear you pant with exhaustion. He stopped to lift your legs onto his shoulders, pushing you back but leaning over you. When he slammed into you again that time, you nearly screamed– he was hitting something so deep in you that it was actually painful.

“Stop, it’s– it’s too deep,” you moaned.

You tried to move back but he held you down firmly, a dark glimmer in his eye. He thrust in again, even harder, and you cried out as you tried to grab onto the table for dear life. He grabbed your wrists with each hand and pinned them beside you, laughing as you tried to fight him off. 

Any normal human you could overpower in an instant. But you were no match for a Slayer. Both of you knew that. 

“Let me go,” you begged, “you’re hurting me.”

“I could do a lot worse to you if I wanted. You should be thankful I’ve let you live.”

“I could say the same,” you snarled. He pulled back and rammed his cock into you so hard that you instantly screamed, tears sliding down your temple.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he ordered. “Just be a good little whore and take my cock.”

He started to move inside you, hard and fast, and you couldn’t help but struggle against him as he hovered above you. 

“Apologize,” he demanded, and just as he sensed you were about to tell him to fuck off, he accentuated it by holding his hips to yours a little longer than normal, reminding you that he could hurt you so easily if you didn’t obey.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m sorry, Bucky, please don’t… please don’t hurt me.”

He grinned as he watched you cry. “This is what you fuckin’ get for teasing me. You killed that girl to get my attention. You wanted me to find you and fuck you the way you’ve been missin’ out on for the past few centuries.”

You shook your head to deny it but he suddenly let your arms go to slap you across the face. You tried to use your free arm but in an instant he had your wrists pinned to your chest, putting all his weight on you until you could barely breathe.

“Just admit it, baby,” he said in an oddly sensitive way, like he was taking pity on you. “Just admit you need me.”

“Please,” you sobbed, near-silent from the lack of air, “please…”

“Aw, look at you,” he cooed, “begging for more.”

He trapped your wrists under his left hand and used his right to roughly grab your jaw until your mouth was forced open.

“Show me your teeth, gorgeous,” he purred. You hissed as your fangs glistened in the candlelight. “Mmm, you wanna bite me, don’t you?”

You tried to nod but couldn’t move your face much.

“The feeling’s mutual,” he grinned. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. Gonna fill that tight little cunt.”

Your fight was renewed as you tried to kick and squirm away but it was useless. You grunted as his thrusts became erratic but even more painful, somehow.

“Beg for it,” he growled through his teeth. “Beg for my fuckin’ come.”

You tried to fight but only got another slap to the face, the sting making your eyes water instantly. 

“Beg, whore,” he repeated, yelling. “I won’t come until I fucking hear it.”

“Please!” you yelped, and in a sense it was genuine, because once he came this would all be over, and maybe– just maybe– he would let his guard down long enough for you to feed on this evil son of a bitch. “Please come, Bucky, come in me, I need it!” 

“Yeah, I know you do,” he laughed confidently, holding you down by your throat as he pumped into you one last time with a shattered moan. “ _Fuck_!” he sighed, savoring the feeling of your unwilling body forced to accept his seed. The truth was, you were tighter when you struggled.

He only let you breathe once he was done, and you choked and spluttered for air as he pulled out. The second you thought you had your bearings together, you were sitting up to lunge at him. You felt something press against your chest and even before you looked down you knew it was over.

A wooden stake. He’d had it the whole time. You looked back at him and he was smiling, the bastard, even as he was still catching his breath from fucking you. The sight made you shudder.

“I was gonna fuck you, and then kill you,” he admitted, “but now I think I’ll keep you.”

You hissed with a grimace, flashing your fangs, but knew you had no recourse, no options, no way out.

“You look so cute when you’re scared,” he smiled. “Can’t wait to take you back to mine, trap you in a little salt pentagram, and fuck you senseless whenever I want.”

You whined, closing your eyes as you realized how well and truly fucked you were. 

“It won’t always hurt so bad. You’ll get used to me. And I’ll feed you enough to keep you alive.”

Sounded like a cruel existence, but you weren’t ready to get the business end of your stake, so you swallowed dryly and nodded in acceptance of your fate. 

He laughed and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek before guiding you to stand on weak knees. “C’mon baby, let’s get you home.”


End file.
